You say that I've been happier —
smiled more, laughed more.
But I feel as though these months have
been some of my worst.
These months have been hard on me, and
I've shed more tears than I ever have before.
You just don't see.
You don't see me bawling my eyes out
in the dark, clutching my hair or my pillow in
an attempt to hold on to something; anything.
You don't see these things I've written, and
I know better now than to show them to you.
You don't see me in my darkest moments.
You don't see me when my eyes are stinging,
my face sticky and wet from tears.
There is so much I've hidden from you, so much you don't know, but I'll let
you believe this.
I'll let you be happy.
(At least one of us truly is.)
The truth is—
the truth you'll never know—
you think that I'm happy
because I've taught myself
to cry in silence.
YOU ARE READING
recycled poetry
Poetry❝i wish i was writing something special, but these words have been used before and there's no originality to it at all. i'm just reusing phrases until they're worn out, like musty library books or hand-me-down clothes.❞ from ❛hand-me-down poetry❜ i...
